Never Going Back
by SoundsRight
Summary: When one walks toward a new direction, they'd most likely hesitate to continue or want to turn back; he didn't do either of that, though. Rated T for language and slight blood. England/Japan.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

**Warning****: This is a BL (BoysLove) fic. If you are not interested or strongly against it, I insist that you should look for something else to read. Thank You.  
**

..

Taking in a deep breath of the sea water's air, Arthur looked ahead of him to see that they were finally on their way back to land. He wondered quietly to himself on what this new country would look like—this is his first time to travel to that nation, after all. The Englishman stifled a yawn as he walked back to his cabin to check on the other two who were accompanying him in this trip.

Feeling the slight sways of the ship, he made his way inside the wooden vessel to a door that had a number carved on it. Opening it slowly, the door made an annoying creak—there goes going into the room perfectly unnoticed. Quickly giving up on the door, Arthur pushed the door in a way that it almost flew off from its hinges. The abused access stopped just before it could collide with the wall, thankfully.

Casually going inside and closing the door behind him, the Englishman could see that the two children were still sleeping on the bed—one was still sleeping soundly while the other one had just woken up. Rubbing his eyes lazily, the child that just woke up looked at the man with a sleepy smile on his face. "Good morning." The voice was soft—almost angelic.  
"It's actually the afternoon right now, Matthew. Did I wake you up?"  
"No. I was already awake just before you came in."  
"Alright—would you mind waking your brother up?"  
"Ok."

Walking to the table by the corner of the room, Arthur started fixing the small mound of papers scattered around. He soon sat down at the chair found under the surface and started writing some things on the papers. After finalizing the documents for permitting foreign entry, he turned his head back to feel a sharp sting on his cheek—the other child who was just sleeping a minute ago was now smiling goofily to himself; he triumphantly held up the finger that assaulted the other. "I got you again!"  
"Was there a certain _need_ to do that, Alfred?"  
"Of course there is!"  
"How so?"  
"It proves that I could be a great ninja someday!"  
"_Again_ with all that—where did you get all this '_ninja_ _business'_ from, anyways?"  
"Francis told me all about them before we left."  
"Have I not told you that he would just fill your heads with dim-witted thoughts?"  
"Unlike what you keep telling me, Françis told me that these people were real—they were _real_ _warriors_! He saw them himself when he went there."  
"What makes you think that what I'm telling you isn't as great as _his_?"  
"You keep telling us that faeries and unicorns exist, but I don't see anything!"  
"That is simply because you don't know how to approach them—"  
"You're just lying—"  
"—why you, ungrateful little brat."

Finally being noticed after so many gentle requests to stop, Matthew was seen holding onto Alfred's arm asking him and Arthur to end all this bickering. Considering the other child's quiet plea, the Englishman apologised reluctantly and soon told the two small boys to go have a bath. "I can't take a bath with Matty! It's disgusting!" Alfred protested with a sordid look on his face.  
"We might dock soon and we still have not eaten anything—"  
"—we could eat at a nearby shop—"  
"—I'm hearing enough from you. You two are just _brothers_, for God's sake. Besides, everything would be faster this way and you two could easily fit in the same tub. Now get going and stop complaining."

Ignoring the rest of the American child's whining, Arthur started packing up all their belongings in their luggage—it was two large black bags and one small red one. Finishing his job by finally packing the small stuffed animal in the red bag, the Englishman saw that the two boys were almost done changing into the clothes that had been set out.

As they were about to go out of their room, a voice boomed from one end of the hall telling everyone in their rooms that it was already time to go. Hearing Alfred mumble words of annoyance for not eating yet, Arthur could only sigh in the same annoyance and grabbed all their belongings—he gave the small bag to Matthew.

The Canadian child opened the bag quickly to see that his _friend_ was safely secured inside. With a relieved smile on his face, Matthew held on to one of Arthur's hands as the three of them walked out of the boat together—Alfred was on the other child's side; he was looking in amazement at his new surroundings.

As Arthur showed the documents to one of the officers standing by, they went to a store that served food—Alfred ate more than he could chew, so the other two had to eat everything else. "I told you not to eat so many things, you twit." The Englishman scolded the small American.

They soon found a carriage to take them to a hotel that Arthur had already made arrangements with. "Remember to behave here, the both of you—especially you, Alfred."  
"Why is it only me?! Matty can be noisy too!"  
"There won't be much children around the place we are staying at—just other men, and I know you long enough to say that you'll be the most troublesome."  
"That's not fair."  
"If you would only act properly, I will reconsider what I have just said—"  
"I'll show you, then—"

Alfred turned his attention to his quiet brother; Matthew's face slightly flushed at the abrupt attention he was given. "I can be as good as Matty, right?" He gave out a determined smile at the other child.  
"I-if you say so—"  
"You don't believe me?"  
"I didn't... mean it that way—"  
"Well, I _can_ do it—"

The tiny American faced the tallest of the three with the same eager look on his face. "I'll be so good at it—it would make you think I'm another person!" Arthur only had a smug look on his face at hearing what the boy had said.  
"I'm looking forward to it."

Looking out at the scenery passing by, Arthur quietly congratulated himself for putting the child under control; he nearly laughed out loud at his easy feat of victory.

He's _brilliant_—damn brilliant. A self-proclaimed genius, you could say.

When they arrived at the building, the Englishman wasn't surprised at the other men's looks on their faces—they expressions were the ones that clearly say that there would be trouble since two children are going to stay over; they were boys, nonetheless. Just as Arthur had hoped for, fortunately, those two boys were well behaved for the whole duration from getting the keys from the front desk, going to their room and unpacking their things.

The room was gloriously quiet that night—it was just what Arthur needed after going through such a long trip from his home at London to all the way in the new world of Japan.

This would be a nice trip. He believed so, anyways.

**..**

**I'm back.**

**No immediate ArthurKiku interaction, sorry—  
Ha ha.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

_This would be a nice trip. He believed so, anyways._

The next morning turned out to be the same as it always had been; the sun was shining bright and the weather wasn't as hot as it was going to be at noon. Though, it looked like Alfred had forgotten about his oath to be well-behaved—he held up a cup of cold water and poured it all over the sleeping Canadian. When Matthew abruptly sat up, his face turned red in embarrassment. "Are you awake, yet?" The American child asked the other with a innocent look on his face—he must have thought that this was one of the natural ways to wake somebody up.  
"W-were you the one that—"  
"Yep! It sure worked, didn't it?"  
"You could have j-just told me to wake up—"  
"You weren't listening and you were taking too long."

Matthew then looked around the room to see that he and Alfred were the only ones inside; Arthur was nowhere to be found—the small Canadian asked the American where the eldest person was.  
"Don't worry—the old man said that he needed to do something."  
"Did he say when he'll be back?"  
"He just told me to wait. You were still sleeping, so I wanted to wake you up—I got bored."  
"I-I see."  
"Hey, let's play a game!"  
"Ok."

While waiting for the missing Englishman to come back, the two children played together—Alfred was pretending to be a policeman while Matthew was forced to play the role of the evil bad guy. The game was at the point where the officer had to catch the criminal for the name of justice. The tiny Canadian went for the bathroom; the other child followed him soon after.

As soon as he entered the bathroom, Alfred was immediately doused in water. He wasn't attacked by the other, no. Rather, he slipped into the tub full of water. The American must have left the tap on since Matthew soon rushed to twist the tap's knobs—the small Canadian must have heard the water running; he must have noticed the big puddle on the floor, as well.

Arthur won't be happy when he comes back, both of them were sure of it—at least that was what Matthew is worrying about.

The rest of the day was spent with Matthew trying to clean up the mess made, and Alfred was busy contributing to the chaos. The small Canadian was soaked with cold water once again, and the other was still residing in the porcelain tub that was not as full as it was before. The American would splash more water into the floor as the rules of a new game that he had made up—all of a sudden, he sneezed. The other didn't notice it, though.  
"You have to clean up the floor until it's all dry—you'll only lose when Arthur gets back."  
"Why do I have to—"  
"It's because I'm the water monster! I'm going to play the bad guy, this time."  
"Don't you always like being the hero?"  
"A hero can't learn how to defeat evil if he always stays on the good side!"

An hour or two after that exhausting _game_, the two of them changed their clothes to something warmer and _dry_. All of the children's belongings were packed together in one suitcase, so they just practically guessed which shirt or pair of sock was rightfully theirs—they were about the same height and build, anyways. It all didn't matter, they supposed.

They soon were starting to get hungry; the light sound of their grumbling stomachs proved it. Luckily, Alfred still had some candy in his pocket from yesterday. Unfortunately for Matthew, the other nearly ate it all in one bite—the whole thing was still eaten by the other, nonetheless. "I wonder if we could go outside and buy something…" The American child began to walk towards the black bags at the corner of the room once again. "Let's hope that the old man left some money in there." He added with an eager tone in his voice.  
"Don't you think we should wait for Arthur, at least?"  
"We'll just tell him that we were _really_ hungry—we are anyways, right?"  
"We might get lost."  
"Don't worry! This place is really big. We could see it even if we get back to Arthur's house."

As their conversation came to an end, Arthur suddenly barged into the room. For some odd reason, neither Alfred nor Matthew greeted him in their cheery voices—the both of them actually fell silent. This was because the Englishman actually looked like he just wanted to kill somebody right now; his eyes were filled with a bitter expression. You could obviously see the man was trying to hide something— "I'm sorry for being so late—I got a little caught up in something." The tallest of the three tried to smile, but the façade only lasted for a second.  
"It will not take long until the sun would fall. After the two of you look a little bit more decent, we shall go out and have a bite to eat. I found a respectable store that's closer than the last shop we ate in."

A few quick moments later, the three of them were in the hotel's lobby—it was somewhat crowded with a lot of old men inside. Just as they were about to head out, Arthur grabbed onto the hands of either child with his own. Alfred was about to protest at the man, but his attention was caught by the large number of officers flooding the access of the building—all of those men wore the same black uniform; they looked exactly like those officers back at London.

Finally on their way to the new shop Arthur was talking about, Matthew actually noticed one of the officers following them at a certain distance. Alfred also saw the same person and asked—more like demanded— the Englishman for an explanation. "That man is just doing his job; do not heed any attention to him."  
"Did you do something bad, again?"  
"Of course not—what do you mean by '_again'_?"  
"Françis told me about all the times you got drunk—"  
"Everything he told you is a lie."

All of them soon stopped in front of a shop and quickly entered the building. They found some seats for themselves and began to order for something to eat.

While waiting for their meals to come, a faint scream was heard outside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

_This would be a nice trip. He believed so, anyways._

Arthur woke up the next morning with a satisfied yawn and a large smile on his face; that was one of the best sleep he had in months. The last time he slept this well was when he found the two—

Looking at the other two who were sleeping on the other bed, the Englishman went for the bathroom to prepare himself for the new day. Leaving the small room he was in, Arthur found one of the children awake. He honestly wondered if there was some sort of rule that either of them should wake up first and not at the same time. "Are we going somewhere today?" Alfred was the one who woke up first.  
"Probably—I just need to go out and handle some things."  
"Can I come?"  
"There is no need for that."  
"Why not?"  
"Just go back to sleep, you brat."  
"I'm hungry."  
"We will eat when I get back."

Taking a small bag out of one of the bigger ones—it looked like the smaller version of the bigger ones, Arthur carefully packed in some papers and headed towards the door. Having the key with him, the Englishman locked the door that he closed behind him.

Once he was out of the building, he was lucky enough to find a carriage to take him to the place he intended to go to. With only mentioning the name of the place, the driver automatically nodded his head and started to go inward towards the town. As they stopped in front of one of the many shops found there, Arthur paid the man and didn't bother if he had any change or not. Looks like the man driving had some extra income—lucky him.

Hearing the sound of the carriage moving farther away from him, Arthur looked up at the wooden sign posted at the top of the shop's entrance; it was painted in black and was in another language. Whether it was in Japanese or Chinese, the man wasn't quite sure. Knowing that this was the place he was meant to be in, he unceremoniously entered the small space.

The first thing that he noticed about the shop was that it reeked of medicinal herbs, and there were numerous boxes stacked together all over the place. Looking around the place, Arthur found who he was hoping to be the owner of this place—the other was packing some of the merchandise in an empty box.

Walking slowly to the other who was clad in what looks to be the country's traditional clothing, the smaller person looked up at the Englishman. "How may I help you?" The tone of the voice was as practiced as the look of the person's smile. The busy man stopped what he was doing and bowed slightly at the taller man.  
"I apologise for the informal greeting, but the shop is currently closed."  
"Are you the owner of this shop?"  
"Yes, I am."  
"I would like to discuss some things—"  
"You are the businessman that has come from Europe, I believe."  
"I am."

Quickly holding his hand out towards the other—"Pardon me for being so rude; I have not properly introduced myself." – His hand was gradually taken by the other's smaller hand.  
"My name is Arthur Kirkland. It's a pleasure to meet you, mister…?"  
"Honda Kiku."  
"Mr. Kiku—"  
"That would be my given name."  
"…Mr. Honda, then."  
"This is your first time in Nihon?"  
"Yes, it is."

Kiku's smile seemed to have become more genuine than before; the other man's sheer frankness amused him, but he knows that you must act like so when talking about such matters. He then remembered what the Englishman came here for—  
"You would have to talk to my brother about the business."  
"May I ask where he is?"  
"He will arrive from China in the next two days, as so I have been told."

Finally noticing that nearly half of the products should be brought out rather than have everything packed, Arthur asked the smaller man about it. "We are closing down, you see."  
"Are you having a bad business?"  
"No. We are just relocating the shop."  
"May I ask where to?"  
"Let me write down the address, instead. Please wait for a moment."

Kiku released his hold on the taller man's hand; the smaller man disappeared at the door found at the back of the store and quickly came out with a card on his hand. Taking it from the other man, Arthur noticed that it had been made from not too long ago—the card looked a little worn out. Pocketing the small card while saying a quick word of gratitude, the Englishman took his leave.

Confident of his sense of direction, Arthur decided to walk back to the hotel. The time now should be somewhere at noon, he supposed. Halfway through his walk, he turned at a corner—

The next thing that had happened was that the Englishman ran towards the unconscious man at the middle of the street. The unfortunate man had a puddle of blood coming out from his abdomen; he was stabbed there. Trying to hear for a heartbeat from the other man, Arthur laid his head down at the other's chest—the beats were frighteningly slow. Sitting back up and looking around for any other person, the Englishman found that there was nobody to be seen.

Arthur wiped off the other man's blood from his cheek by using the back of his hand. The Englishman took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves; he brought out his handkerchief and pressed it against the wound in the other's stomach. The man on the floor suddenly started to cough uncontrollably; his breathing was rather hitched and anyone could hear that he was having difficulty to breathe.

The Englishman lessened the pressure he gave on the wound as a precaution.

Finally noticing the man who was desperately clinging to life, it turned out to be a fellow man from the ship they rode yesterday—it was a friend of his. Arthur remembered that he was working for the government, but he forgot what the other's specific job was. The other man looked up at Arthur with a small smile on his face; it looks like the other recognized our Englishman. "What a predicament we are both in." The man could only chuckle painfully.  
"I will find somebody to help us."  
"There is no need, my friend. Those bastards got me good, I'm afraid."  
"Wait here for a moment—"  
"You stubborn twit."

The last thing he heard from his dying friend was more of that painful laughter; Arthur ran through the town and was lucky to find an officer nearby. Hurriedly going back to his friend, the Englishman led the official through the many corners of the town.

When they found the man on the floor, Arthur could only feel a strong wave of anger and regret sweeping over him. The other man's smile had widened—his eyes were closed. By the man was Arthur's opened black bag; there was a piece of paper on top of the bag. Our Englishman picked up both his bag and the note with it—

'_Stop being such an obdurate git and try listening to people for once. You might actually get a wife by doing so._

_Cheers._'

—Arthur could feel his friend's optimism in the note. Reading it would have made any man smirk and let out a small fit of laughter; our Englishman had a sour expression on his face, though. Looking at the unfortunate man with sad eyes, Arthur never tried his best to smile.

Placing the note in his bag, Arthur picked up his coat to put it on—he did so after he had wiped to blood off his hands with the inside of his coat.

As more officers and innocent bystanders crowded around the once living man, Arthur walked away back to the hotel with the frozen bitter look on his face.

For a moment, he had forgotten all about the children back at his hotel room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

_While waiting for their meals to come, a faint scream was heard outside._

Like what people would normally do, they would instantly turn into the nosy fiends they turn out to be and see what was happening outside; Alfred was characteristically part of that group. Before he could quickly jump right out of his chair, Arthur's voice got to him first. "Do _not_ dare to leave your seat."  
"I wanna see what's—"  
"I forbid you to go out there, Alfred."  
"Why can't I—"  
"Enough."  
"I won't take long—"  
"I will not repeat myself_._"

Seeing as the conversation was just going nowhere, Alfred pouted and sulked in his chair. The boy's arms were crossed in front of his chest—he sneezed out again. Arthur looked at him sternly. "Where are your manners?"  
"I didn't bring them with me."  
"I will not accept that kind of talk."  
"Don't accept it, then."  
"You are close to leaving with an empty stomach."  
"I'm used to not eating every day."  
"—"

The only customers left sitting in the store were the three of them—some of the staff noticed them and went on to serving them to gain their desired profit. As Arthur and Alfred silently glared at each other in an unannounced staring contest, Matthew was tightly holding onto the little toy he had in his arms; it was a polar bear.

The sounds of audible gasps and incoherent yells were heard from the only open access of the shop; the loud blares of whistles were soon heard and more shouts were mixed into the chaos.

Alfred openly sneezes again and sloppily wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. Clearly disgusted with the boys' actions, Arthur told him to go use the washroom to clean up. Nearly falling out of his seat, the small American walked further into the shop in lazy strides. The Englishman sighed in an annoyed manner and looked at the other child. "Matthew, could you please accompany your brother?"  
"Y-yes."

Seeing the other child stumble out of his seat hurriedly, Arthur sighed yet again. The child had been usually a silent one, but he looked as if he just saw a ghost; he acted as if he had done something wrong and was proven guilty about it. Also, the small Canadian would glance at the man with a frightened expression on his face since he came back to the hotel room.

Supporting his head with his palm, he closed his eyes and listened carefully to the loud sounds outside—there seems to be some assault on a passerby. The Englishman overheard that a person was bleeding badly and was being treated by a trained officer; he could hear a gruff English voice scolding the crowd to stay back and go mind their own businesses—as if that's every easy; he could hear the complaining voices of the local Japanese men and women hollering words in their own language, and there would also be words loudly spoken out in the English tongue.

After a moment of more subtle eavesdropping to what was going on outside, it was clear that another fellow foreigner was attacked; the culprit was shouting things about Japan not needing any stupid outsiders _contaminating_ their pure lands.

Slowly opening his eyes, Arthur's face soured again and scowled at the crowd outside the shop. The offensive behaviours of the locals weren't so surprising, though. The citizens still weren't used to the many new faces coming in from other countries since the seclusion they had; it was actually expected and understandable, to be honest.

Still, this was just simply overdoing it.

Opening his eyes, he noticed one of the waitresses serving him three steaming plates of delicious-looking meals. With a quick bow, the lady retreated from the table and exited to what was believed to be the kitchen. Remembering that the two boys were still in the washroom, Arthur decided to call them back to the table himself.

Pushing the washroom's door open, he found Matthew shaking the other worryingly—the small polar bear was still closely held onto by the small Canadian. Alfred's cheeks were heavily flushed and any one could see that he was actually shivering a little. Arthur instantly carried the sick child on his back and held onto the hand of the other one; his expression was faintly showing his growing anxiety of the situation. "H-he told me that he felt d-dizzy." The conscious child answered the man's untold question with slight hesitation in his voice.  
"He also has a bit of a fever—I can feel him burning up."  
"Yeah."  
"Were you doing anything while I was gone this morning?"  
"We played some games. He stayed in the tub for a while."  
"Was it filled up with water?"  
"Y-yes."  
"The brat must have gotten the flu, then."

As they went to their table, Arthur placed a careless amount of money on the table; it was a decent amount, he hoped. Heading out of the shop he noticed some of the people going back inside—it was over, then. He went up to a random passerby and pulled out a card from his pocket; he asked for the directions of the place. Although still flabbergasted at the sight he had seen before he had been asked for directions, the person being talked to calmly instruct the Englishman where to go.

It wasn't really hard to recognize the copper stench of blood on the street.

Curtly thanking the stranger, Arthur walked off with the small American on his back and the small Canadian holding onto his hand. Matthew almost flew from holding onto the hand of the tallest of the three; the man would briskly pace himself to this newfound direction.

Walking for what felt like many minutes later—it felt as if they were walking through a labyrinth with all the turns they had to make. Matthew had already lost count on how many times they'd go to the left or to the right; he forgot how many corners had he turned already; he was wondering to himself if they were lost and were actually going around in circles.

The moment they finally stopped walking was the moment Matthew heard Arthur loudly knocking on the wooden gate—the long, tall wooden fence made the place look somewhat of a fortress. A few moments of waiting had passed and the any one could see that the Englishman was getting quite impatient with the unknown owner of the place.

Another fairly awkward moment had passed and one of the big wooden doors finally opened. The person that came out was remarkably pale and looked as if a strong gust of wind would make the frail person fly high in the air—"Kirkland-san?"  
"I'm sorry for the unexpected visit, but I need your help."  
"…I understand. Please come in."  
"Thank you."

For some odd reason, Matthew couldn't help but feel relaxed. Even with Arthur somewhat strongly smelling like blood—he even saw a small blotch of it on the back of his coat, the small Canadian felt at ease the minute he heard the other man's calm voice.

Could this be what you call a love interest? The Englishman seemed rather _comfortable_ compared to what he was acting like earlier in the day. The bitter expression on the man's face did not completely go away, but a bit of it instantly flew off of him.

Whatever the relationship the two had with each other, Matthew won't mind having the other person in his life—Alfred would agree with him, he supposed.

Nobody can interfere with what two people in love have with each other, _right_?

**..**

**Sorry for the long wait—  
I had a slight writer's block.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

_Nobody can interfere with what two people in love have with each other, __right__?_

The smaller man led his visitors into his house—the whole place looked lonely, but there was a feel of another's presence somewhere nearby. Going through the dark corridors of the wooden fortress, they soon settled in one of the many empty rooms of the abode.

Sliding a door in front of him, the host quickly slid another door in the room only to pull out a mattress from it. Laying the mattress somewhere on the centre of the fairly large space, the smaller man gestured Arthur to place the sick child on it. After doing what he was told, the Englishman saw the other man leave the room soon after.

Moments have passed and the Japanese man came back with some sort of cup in his hands. Kneeling down by the American child, the smaller man gently lifted up Alfred's head—he carefully tipped the cup to one side so that the liquid contents could easily go down the ill one's throat.

Happy with what he has done, the Japanese man set back the boy to rest onto the mattress. Standing up to go to the closet in the room, he pulled out a blanket. As if it were a skill, he placed the thin material on the child. The smaller man soon kneeled down again and looked at the Englishman in a reassuring manner. "Just let him rest here for the night. He will be well again by tomorrow."  
"I apologise for giving you all this trouble, Mr. Honda."  
"None at all—I am glad to have helped."  
"I will gladly pay for the expenses."  
"It is alright, Kirkland-san. This was an emergency, after all."

Feeling slightly out of place, Matthew focused all his attention on the small doll in his arms. The small child certainly wanted to say something, but he really didn't know what to say. What if it wasn't appropriate?

What if it was actually considered something rude to say?

Noticing the other child who seemed to be arguing with himself, the smaller man turned his attention to the Canadian child. "May I ask for your name?" Instantly looking up with a flushed look on his face, the child seemed to once again have a mental argument with himself—he cuddled onto his bear closely.  
"M-Matthew."  
"It's nice to meet you, Matthew-kun."  
"It's n-nice to meet you, too, M-Mr. Honda."  
"You can call me Kiku, if you want."  
"Ok."

A minute after the conversation, Kiku's eyes seemed to have kept a subtly alarmed gaze at the taller man sitting opposite to him—"Matthew-kun, would you mind if I talked to Kirkland-san for a while?"  
"I-it's ok."  
"Thank you."

Aside from the Japanese man and the sleeping American, the two others had the same perplexed look on their faces. Standing up almost simultaneously, Arthur and Kiku soon left the room; the smaller man then closed the door behind him and left the children alone. "Please follow me, Kirkland-san."

The Englishman unknowingly agreed and soon found himself in another room not too far away from where the two children were. By the centre of the room, there was a low table; by one side of the room, there was a small table; opposite to small table were two sliding doors that revealed a traditional Japanese garden and the stunning sight of dusk.

Standing in the same place he was in when he entered the new room, Arthur found the other man looking at him with a concerned look on his face. The smaller man seemed to have paled since the last time they've met. The other appeared to also have become slightly frailer—as if he hadn't eaten anything at all for the whole day.

"Kirkland-san, you smell of blood—has something happened to you?"

It actually took a moment of evident confusion from the taller man to understand what the other had told him; the unfortunate events of what happened earlier in the day slowly crept into his mind. He remembered—

Nonchalantly taking off his coat, Arthur saw fairly large stains of dried blood. The blotch reeked of a metallic scent that had recently aged. "This clearly explains Matthew's peculiar behaviour earlier." The Englishman mumbled to himself audibly—a somewhat cynical smile appeared on his face.

Alfred must have not said anything due to his flu— "Are you alright, Kirkland-san?"  
"Ah—yes, I am. Do not fret over it."  
"Do you have any injury on your back?"  
"No, all this was from a dear friend of mine."  
"I-I—I see…"  
"Do not quickly jump to conclusions, Mr. Honda. I came in _after_ the ordeal."  
"…I'm sorry."  
"There is no need for an apology, do not worry."

As the feel of an awkward moment crawled in, Arthur would only keep the slightly eerie smile on his face while Kiku would uncomfortably look down to the floor. Looking back up at the taller man, the Japanese man unconsciously pulled onto the other's bloodied coat. "Let me clean this up for you, at least."  
"I can simply change my clothes back at the hotel, and it's quite late to wash anything now."  
"It is dangerous to go outside right now—"  
"I am _absolutely_ more than capable to take care of myself, Mr. Honda."  
"Please listen to what I have to say—I know what might have happened to your friend."  
"Wh—"  
"They come in _groups_, Kirkland-san. You are very much safe in here—they will not bother looking in our homes because they only raid the public roads of town. They roam around the places where the foreigners are most likely to pass."  
"I can never just let them freely lurk around. I have to tell the officials what you have just told me."

As Arthur was about to leave, Kiku instantly grabbed onto the arm of the other. Turning back to the smaller man, the Englishman saw a look of pure unease on the other's face. "If they catch you, they will not show any mercy towards you—"  
"—_If_ they catch me—"  
"Think about your children, Kirkland-san."  
"M-my… _children_?"  
"Are the boys you have brought along with you not yours?"  
"No, they are not."  
"Are you their older brother?"  
"No."  
"Are you a relative of theirs, at least?"  
"I apologise, no."  
"…What are you to them, then?"  
"A generous bloke who is taking care of them—"  
"Then as that type of person, please think of their wellbeing in that way."

In an instant, Arthur imagined that damn frog _laughing_ right at his face while speaking words of his own tongue—a _beautiful language_, as he'd self-proclaim. He'd imagine the man in his thoughts to inevitably tease the other in that foreign language the Englishman was also fluent in speaking, writing and fucking _understanding_; all of that learning was never out of a voluntary impulse.

He was forced to—_tricked_, as Arthur kept saying.

The man that the Englishman thought of would surely mock him about meeting a person who actually turned out to be as stubborn as he was. It's a good thing he was not here though, the bloody _Frenchman_.

Looking more into the smaller man's eyes, Arthur's gaze focused on the rising moon and gave a heavy sigh. Putting his full attention on the Japanese man that had a determined look on his face, the Englishman finally surrendered the soiled coat to the other. The smaller man's face quickly made a series of expressions from sudden confusion, immediate triumph, and finally to a warm smile that gently graced his features.

The Englishman's heart suddenly skipped a beat—how odd.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

_The Englishman's heart suddenly skipped a beat—how odd._

The next morning, Alfred slowly opened his eyes to the bright light of the new day's sun. Lazily sitting up, he saw that he was in a very unfamiliar room. Ignoring every detail surrounding him, the small American sluggishly walked to one on the doors in the room. With one hand, he tried pushing it—the door didn't open. He pushed the strange door even harder only to make a hole with his whole hand. Trying to budge his hand out, the child found out that one had to actually slide it to a certain direction. After fully sliding the door open to one side, Alfred had an amazed look on his face.

Arthur should make the doors at home like this—this was fun.

Walking aimlessly through the hollow, long hallways, the only sounds he could hear were the footsteps he made on the wooden floors. He would loudly comment in fascination at the unusual pots and even stranger pictures hanged up on the walls. Every time he'd pass a door similar to the first one he saw, he'd unceremoniously open it. Seeing as there was nobody inside, he would go in and look around the room with quick glances. When he was done looking at the room or he'd become bored, Alfred would walk back out to the hallway only to repeat the same thing at another room he found.

By now, Alfred was pretty positive that he'd fully explored the whole place—he found the bathroom, the kitchen and even the front door. Smelling the fresh air since he'd woken up, the small American wondered out loud if there was a yard at the back of the new home.

Walking excitedly to the answer of his curiosity, he made quick strides towards the back of the huge house. When he finally reached his destination, Alfred found out that both Matthew and Arthur were there the whole time.

A little bit of his sense of adventure kind of died in him.

Interestingly, Arthur was wearing a green robe. The clothing looked as if it was a bit small for the Englishman, though; the man was reading a small handful of papers in his hand. Beside him, there was a tray with an odd looking cup that suspiciously contained some sort of tea in it—_obviously_. Alfred noticed that the small white polar bear was on the other side of the tray; it was the man's accompany, you could say.

Taking a few minutes to look for the other child, Alfred found Matthew holding up a piece of cloth in his arms. The American couldn't entirely see who the other child was giving the clothing to, but he did see a pale hand take what definitely resembled one of the many formal shirts that Arthur had brought along to this country. The rest of the person's body was covered up by a wide, white sheet.

With another prying thought in his mind, Alfred crept to the far side of the open yard—hiding behind one of the fair number of trees present. After sneaking a glance at Arthur and Matthew, the small American made his move to the next tree that was quite near the one he was using.

Remembering all the stories that Françis had told him, Alfred told himself that this would surely prove once and for all that he'd make the best ninja—_**ever**_.

Unfortunately for the little American _ninja_, the unknown figure seemed to have walked away. This fact was proven when all he saw was Matthew behind the white sheet that was previously shielding the foreign person's identity. The other child seemed to have noticed our spy and tried to say a quiet greeting; sadly, Alfred was so focused with the mystery he faced that he didn't hear what the small Canadian had said.

Understanding this full well, Matthew gave out a very soft sigh. The small Canadian stood still at where he was standing as if to prepare himself of a scene that was bound to happen—

Peeking from the other side of the hanging sheets, Alfred finally saw the mystery person; the small American could only see the back of the person, though. The unknown figure had short, black hair and was wearing the same type of robe Arthur had on—it was sort of purple, though. Looking at the person walk up towards the Englishman, the other two looked as if they were exchanging quick sentences of a brief conversation. With a great deal of his curiosity getting to him, the child finally decided to confront this mysterious person.

Briskly walking up to the taller people, Alfred made a fairly loud entrance—"Who are you?" The American saw Arthur look at him in a mixture of surprise and slight annoyance.  
"How did you get here?"  
"I went out through the front door."  
"You could have walked the other way in the hall. It would have led you to the room behind me."  
"Why are you wearing a dress?"  
"This is not—"  
"What is it?"  
"Let me finish my sentence, you brat."

Another look of the same expression was shot from the Englishman—Alfred ignored it. The child immediately turned his attention again to the other who had finally faced him. It was a face that he couldn't quite recognize; it must be one of Arthur's business friends.

It could also be one of those people who would stay over with Arthur at certain nights. Those were also the nights when the Englishman and the guest would make weird noises in his room. They would always be women, but this new face could pass up as a woman; this must be a woman.

Whichever type of _friend_ this person truly was, Alfred was confident that he had never seen this person before.

It was obvious that the features of the other weren't what he was used to seeing back home—the other's nose wasn't as pointy, and the person's eyes were smaller than what he had seen before— "Are you a woman?" The look on the other person's face flushed lightly from the question.  
"N-no, I am not."  
"So you're a man?"  
"Yes."

Loudly clearing his throat to interrupt the conversation, Arthur quickly apologised for the American child's rude behaviour—"It is alright, Kirkland-san." Alfred didn't give up on asking his questions, though.  
"Why do men have to wear weird dresses, here?"  
"In my country, this is what is normally worn by men."  
"Your country is weird."  
"Your country also confuses me, greatly."

Alfred watched at the two who conversed with each other once again about the child's manners—with the Englishman cutting in to apologise, for the second time. The smaller man would smile gently at the other while the taller man's face would faintly colour.

The American child felt that somebody walked up beside him—it was probably Matthew.

Suddenly, the Englishman's face glanced at the suspected person beside Alfred; Arthur's face would flush a little more heavily, and he would mouth out words that the child couldn't quite catch. The American shortly started feeling a little left out, so he popped in another question for either of the two. "Can we live here?"

Both of the men then looked at the inquisitive child, but it was Arthur that answered the question. "No, we cannot."  
"Why not?"  
"We are merely just guests."  
"I like it here."  
"We have our own home in London—"  
"Can't we buy a house here?"  
"No, we already have a house. Besides, the only place that is currently selling houses is at Yedo."  
"I want to live _here_."  
"We would all just have to wait and see, Alfred."  
"How about we live in this house?"  
"As I said, we are just guests. We _cannot_ just live here."  
"Ma—"

Alfred immediately looked at the smaller man and—"What's your name?"  
"It is Kiku."  
"Kiku."  
"Correct."

The American looked back at the Englishman as if the concise pause never had happened—"Marry Kiku, then."  
"Wh-_what_?!"  
"Fall in love with Kiku and marry him!"  
"I…I cannot just do that."  
"Yes, you can! All you have to do is bring him flowers, right?"  
"It does not simply go like that, Alfred."  
"What do you have to do, then?"  
"I cannot do anything."  
"Why?"  
"First of all, we are both _men_."  
"Kiku can pretend to be a—."  
"_**No**_."

As the anomalous argument between the Englishman and the American child continued on, Kiku could only walk away slowly with a very discomfited look on his face. He checked with the hanging laundry to see if it was dry enough to bring inside—it obviously wasn't. The Japanese man noticed Matthew looking at the other two with a somewhat exhausted look on his face. "Were you standing here the whole time, Matthew-kun?" The small Canadian soon after looked up at the man to answer.  
"Yes."

The Canadian child glanced back at the bickering two then back again to the man beside him. For a second—just a quick second, Matthew thought he saw the Japanese man's face wince in deep agony. The thing he was sure he saw, though, was Kiku putting a shivering hand on his stomach. Before the child could ask anything about it, the man smiled gently at the other—as if to silently announce that everything was alright.

A minute later, Kiku silently slipped into his own home without drawing out any attention from the two who were still having their disagreement. The little polar bear by the tray still sat in its position as it had always been since the late morning. The topic of discussion from the other two foreigners was now something absolutely unrelated to their first issue.

The clouds that were covering the bright afternoon sun steadily faded away. Matthew was left in the middle of the open space with a worried expression on his face; he was certainly concerned for the person who became as invisible as he was. Nobody noticed him standing there—just like in those days before Arthur and Alfred had found him.

A few moments later, Matthew was called in by Arthur—Alfred didn't get what he wanted judging from the smug look on the Englishman's face. The Canadian child smiled to himself.

A family would always recognize each other, somehow. That was what he was told one day; he didn't exactly know who told him that, though. The Canadian was sure, however, that the serene tone of the voice was close to Kiku's.

In a few hours, the sun shall fall. The moon shall rise again to live another night.

It shall.

It already did.

**..**

**I'm sorry if the ending didn't seem as cool as I envisioned it—  
In all honesty, I admit, I laughed too.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

_It already did._

Well, actually, that was a lie—the sun was still yet to fall.

Arthur's clothes had long since dried up and he insisted that he should get back to the hotel to get some things—his business bag, for one. "Would it not be safer for you to gather your things tomorrow morning?" Kiku asked with a firm tone in his voice.  
"We don't exactly know when your brother will arrive, do we?"  
"He will understand that the meeting would not be immediate—"  
"What kind of a man would I be if I were to keep the other party waiting?"  
"He _will_ understand, Kirkland-san."  
"I would be giving a bad impression, Mr. Honda."

As Kiku tried to say anything else, the Englishman unexpectedly cupped the side of the smaller man's face; his thumb gently stroked the other's cheek. Arthur smiled warmly at the other—"How about I promise that I would not leave the hotel if it were to already grow dark?" The other's face immediately flushed darkly; from what has been said or what the taller man was doing, nobody was sure.

Whatever the reason was, though, it was working on the smaller man's will. "A-alright." Kiku slowly looked down at the floor beneath him. Arthur's eyes lit in triumph.  
"I thank you."

Even with the obvious cue to leave the home, Arthur seemed to have frozen along with Kiku. Both figures still stood where they were, and the Englishman's hand did not leave the other's cheek. With every passing moment, the taller man only seemed to have become closer to the Japanese man. Just as the space between them— "Kirkland-san…"

The voice was so quiet, but it was not the type some people would anticipate for. The smaller man sounded as if he were weakly protesting against the Englishman's actions.

Realizing what he was about to do, Arthur quickly stepped away with a shameful expression on his face. Hiding his expression from the other's view, the Englishman instantly turned to the door behind him and slid the door open—"Pardon my behaviour, Mr. Honda."  
"Ah—I-it was… not—"  
"Everything I did was out of my own amusement."  
"Wh—?"  
"I did it to see if it would entertain me."  
"…I… I understand, Kirkland-san."  
"Now, if you will excuse me."  
"Please, take care of yourself."  
"That would not be a problem."

After closing the door behind him, Arthur did not hesitate but to hurriedly walk his way from the house he was staying at. "It is your _entire_ fault, my friend." The Englishman spoke in slight accusation and glanced at his right only to see another man with ruddy skin and very red hair walking by him. The strange-coloured man was holding up a bottle of an alcohol of some sort—saké, was it?  
"How is it so, dear foreigner?"  
"Just this afternoon, you would keep telling me such _inappropriate_ things— beside Alfred, nonetheless! What would I do if he _heard_ you?"  
"I am just giving you my support."  
"In what way were you doing that, exactly?"  
"It is by telling you the things you would surely desire, of course!"  
"Youbastard."

The other man gave out a loud and hearty laugh; taking a large swig of the bottle he was holding, a joyful and carefree smile immediately graced the other's features. "It is not I who is in love, dear foreigner."  
"You keep quiet."  
"You cannot silence the joyful man."  
"You are not even a man."  
"I am not a man, correct—I am a happy being."  
"A drunken git is what you are."  
"What a sharp tongue you have, my pale friend."  
"How fortunate for you to have noticed—"  
"What have you done, anyways?"  
"Mind your own business, would you?"  
"Something tells me that you went a little too fast for the young master."  
"I have not done any of the sorts."  
"You are mistaken if you can lie to me so easily, silly mortal."  
"Why have you enquired, in the first place?"  
"I want to know if you are doing everything correctly—"  
"You just need an excuse to mock me."  
"…My plan has been figured out."

The walk continued on with more cheery laughter from the strange-coloured man and quick retorts from the Englishman; the people who walked by the two would always looked with a questionable look on their faces. Almost all of those curious looks would go to the Englishman, though. Most of the glances he was receiving were the ones that were condemning Arthur that he had suddenly gone mad; he casually ignored the quick looks of the unknowing bystanders—he was already used to those types of glances, you could say.

Arthur recalled how he and the man beside him had met—the Englishman was about to sleep in a room Kiku had offered until the other barges into his room and manages to talk him into a few drinks. Thankfully, Arthur had not become absolutely drunk; unfortunately for him, he slurred out words of _very_ slight interest in the Japanese host.

The red-haired man had not kept quiet about it ever since.

Arriving at the hotel, Arthur's friend decided to wander off without further notice. From the looks as to where the jolly man was going, it seemed like he was heading for the nearby harbour. The Englishman remembered being told that the being's true home was at sea; sometimes he wondered why his optimistic friend lived at sea rather than in the deep jungles. That unusual friend of his looked too much of a primate to be living at sea.

Arthur laughed quietly to himself. That was a good jab at the ego, he presumed—he'll try it sometime.

When he entered the hotel, he could see that a fairly large crowd settled themselves in the expensive furniture whilst talking quietly towards whoever was by them. The place was still slightly more crowded than the first day he had arrived in this building. Arthur sighed rather glumly as he remembered his unfortunate friend.

Soon, the Englishman briskly walked up to his room—after asking the woman at the front desk for an extra key to his room. He seemed to have forgotten it at Kiku's place, he believed. What he said to the woman, though, was that he must have dropped it somewhere.

Opening the door to the familiar (yet unfamiliar) room, Arthur saw the whole place as it was since they left. He found his small business bag on top of one of the beds; the larger bags were still at the corner of the room; everything else had the appearance that nobody had touched anything—which was quite true, in all honesty.

Reaching for the small bag on the bed, the man remembered that there was a letter given to him. The Englishman opened his bag to see the recognizable documents he brought from his home and the roughly folded piece of paper inside. He picked up the piece of paper and slowly opened the note to read it once more.

Arthur was still considerably young; there was no need for such a rush to marry—

Did his friend have a family? Had the other mentioned about it, or was he asked to talk of it?

A few quick moments of contemplation and giving up passed, and he concluded that he did not ask anything about the other's personal life—neither was he asked something about his own personal life. So they were considered as stranger-friends than ordinary friends, it seems.

Looking out of the window, the sun was already setting down. People would probably start preparing for the coming night. Arthur could stay in the hotel room tonight, but the Englishman inflexibly took his chance to go back to the wooden fortress. If he walked quickly enough (running was out of the question), he could make it back in time.

He could, right?

Placing the note in his pocket, picking up his small black bag, leaving and locking the room, giving back the spare key, and on the road once again, Arthur couldn't seem to find his drunken friend. Quickly deciding to go on without the other, the Englishman resumed his way onto the traditional house he slowly grew fond of staying at.

Halfway through his journey back to Kiku's home, rain started to pour in. Making sure that his bag was shut tight, Arthur hastened his pace under the rather gloomy weather. Everything was beginning to grow dark, and the rain obviously just made everything else much darker.

Looking ahead of him, Arthur saw figures in the middle of the road—it looked like an adult and a small child. Walking even closer to the pair ahead of him, he saw that the child was wearing some sort of strange umbrella-like hat; the child was also holding up a lighted lantern. The child, who was guessed to be a boy, was hopping around in puddles of random directions. The taller being, who wore a more sophisticated robe than Kiku's, was walking aimlessly by the child while they soaked under the pouring rain; it was a woman.

The both of them looked as if they were having the time of their lives under the heavy pour of the rain; neither of the two bothered that they were being drenched in the rain's cold drops. As Arthur walked even closer to the unusual people, the others didn't bother stopping what they were doing. It was only when—"Excuse me?" The woman looked at the Englishman and spoke in a rather monotonic, and faintly surprised, voice.  
"It has been a while since I have encountered a mortal who is able to see us—a foreigner, to be exact."  
"Do you not have an umbrella with you?"  
"I believe that you have not heard of me before."  
"…I suppose not, my apologies. I am not so familiar with this country, yet. Now, if you will excuse me."  
"Do you not know that there is a group who is in the next road ahead of you?"  
"…Is there a problem with this group?"  
"They despise your kind, young man— the foreign ones such as you."

Before Arthur could ask anymore about the suspicious group, the small child—"I think I heard about you from the drunken monkey."  
"Are you talking about the one with wild, red hair and a bottle in hand?"  
"Yes."  
"What has that sprite been talking of me behind my back?"  
"You are a special outsider to my friend who cannot see us anymore."  
"…Do you mean of Mr. Honda?"  
"You should call him Kiku."  
"Why?"  
"You are _special_ to him."  
"How special am I?"  
"It is as that you love him, right?"

Arthur swore that he would get that cocky sprite; he annoyingly pinched the bridge of his own nose as if it were to calm him down in any way. Before he could say a retort of denial, the small boy quickly grasped on the wrist of the man; the boy pulled the other in a different direction. "I know another way back to the house you are looking for… it is a way to avoid the bad group." The Englishman glanced back at the woman who wasn't moving an inch, and he then looked at the child who continued to pull him away.  
"Why is you companion staying behind?"  
"Mother will help us by making the rain harder, so that it is harder for others to see. We are known to bring out rain."  
"Why are you helping me, if you do not mind me asking?"  
"You are Kiku's special person."  
"How am I Mr. Hon—"  
"Kiku."  
"…Kiku. How am I Kiku's special person?"  
"The monkey said that you are special."  
"He is just uttering nonsense."  
"He knows not to do such in front of my mother, white man."  
"Watch your manners, boy."  
"I'd rather not."

The moon was already rising to the middle of the night sky, and the two who were walking had already reached the gates of the house belonging to the well-known Kiku Honda. Most of the walk had been about the small child correcting Arthur into saying '_Kiku'_ rather than '_Mr_. _Honda'_. The boy insisted that it is much better to call the Japanese man by his given name than what the Englishman had been saying.

After the man thanked for the child for his and his mother's assistance, Arthur heard something from—

"If you would stop being so stubborn, foreigner, you will surely understand what the monkey is talking about."

—the boy who was nowhere to be found. Trying to ignore the fact that what he heard sounded somewhat familiar, the Englishman made his way into abode in front of him.

Since then, the rain lightened gradually until it was no more.

**..**

**Numerous factors have avoided me updating as fast as I usually do—  
My apologies.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

_Since then, the rain lightened gradually until it was no more._

Nearly knocking on the rather thin (but sturdy) wooden door, Arthur somewhat hesitant to let himself in. He was soaking wet; he could feel the cool water droplets of rain running down his back—he shivered slightly. The Englishman somewhat regretted his decision to hurry back to this house, but he presumed that there's nothing else he could do now.

He's already here, is he not?

A few moments after making three sharp taps, the door soon slid at a side to reveal the small owner of the home. The other's hair was somewhat dishevelled and his eyes told that he was just in the state of nearly entering unconsciousness. Since it was dark, Kiku wasn't able to see that Arthur was in front of him. Rather, it was just a tall shadow in the Englishman's place. "May I ask who you are?" The taller man's face lit up with an unnoticed sly smirk on his face as he heard the other's rather lethargic voice.  
"Ah—_Je desolé, monsieur_. _Où est chez mademoiselle… _Hoku?"

The smaller man blinked questionably at the silhouette talking to him; this was certainly something new. He'd usually have English-speaking customers coming in his shop—if ever they'd be foreigners, so he only took up English seriously; somehow, the language was something that he had heard of before. Not sure how to answer the shadow in front of him, Kiku remained quiet.

"_Pouvez-vous m'aider?_" The voice nearly sounded like Arthur's, but it was a bit deeper.

Kiku still remained silent—as if it was to wait for the other to just give up and walk away. Not answering to the other's relief, the silhouette did not move an inch. Everything turned out to be a little bit awkward for the both of them.

"…_Parlez-vous français?_" The tone in the unknown man's voice hinted that he was amused rather than being expectedly irritated. The stranger seems to be having fun in this weird happening.

Moments later ticked by, and the man started to laugh quietly to himself. The other then wondered about the peculiar man's behaviour—his stomach started to twist in knots, once more. "It would have been much more enjoyable if you did not decide to remain silent, Kiku." The Japanese man's face became slightly flushed, but it was also a bit pained. Kiku had ignored the familiar pain.  
"…Kirkland-san? Are you not meant to be in the hotel?"  
"I came back _safely_, did I not?"  
"Please be more serious with your… promises—"  
"Kiku?"

Before Arthur knew it, the smaller man had collapsed on his knees. One hand was on the ground while the other was tightly clutching onto his robe. The sickening feeling forming at the pit of his abdomen grew more painful for Kiku to bear. He felt the disgusting taste of bile coming up from the back of his throat, but he rejected to give way for it. As he tried to stand up, he soon felt the rain-drenched cloth at his side— the Englishman had carried the other in his arms.

To the taller man's surprise, the other seemed to be disturbingly light.

It was actually quite _frightening_.

Without a second thought, Arthur led the both of them into the suddenly chilly home. Thankful that he found an open door, the Englishman entered what is believed to be the room of the person he held up in his arms.

The room strongly smelt of mint—there was a distinguishing outline of a small tray at the side of the mattress at the floor; in that tray, there was a cup, a pot and a small package of what is believed to obviously be a medicine of some sort.

Placing the smaller man down on the mattress, Arthur immediately turned his attention to the tray beside him. Looking at the tray questionably, the Englishman noticed the other struggling to help himself up. "I-I can aid myself, Kirkland-san."  
"Tell me what to do."  
"It is not a problem—"  
"It is never rewarding to try putting up a diminishing façade."  
"…I understand."

The Englishman hastily followed the other's quiet instruction. After pouring the minty powder from the package to the unfilled cup and slightly scalding his hand while recklessly pouring the hot water, Arthur finished the unfamiliar concoction. He had to help the other drink its liquid contents after realizing that Kiku was starting to have an unreliable grip of things.

Drinking everything without a pause, Kiku ended with a relieved sigh. Setting the cup back at the tray, the smaller man thanked the other with the same soft voice the Englishman was so used to hearing.

Kiku knew (and expected) that Arthur would raise a question about his health; the smaller man had showed that he was certainly having some problems with his wellbeing. The taller man, though, had not uttered a single word— much to the fall of the other's expectations. Instead, the Englishman briefly excused himself to close the front door. "Tell me if there is anything I could do for you. Please do not hesitate to call me."  
"Kirkland-san?"  
"Yes?"  
"A moment ago… you kept calling me by my given name."

Thanks to the darkness around them, Arthur's flushed face was barely noticeable; the man suddenly burst out in nervous laughter. That damn brat with the strange hat—"I d-did it for myself."  
"It does not bother—"  
"I did it for… _my_ sake."  
"It is alri—"  
"It was in the name of amusing myself."

In an instant, Arthur had left the room and began to briskly walk away to close the front door that was left open. Leaving Kiku to himself, the smaller man looked at the door that the other went through—as if the Englishman would soon appear in the same moment he abruptly left.

Sighing to himself once more, Kiku slowly lowered himself on his bed and under his blanket; he closed his eyes and tried to enter the state of sleep, once again—

_Looking ahead of him in the white never-ending space, Kiku saw a creature with hooves and a number of horns on its head and back—all its nine eyes stared intently at the Japanese man's own eyes. The face was of what a bearded human's appearance would be. Besides the odd being, Arthur was found at the creature's side; the being's tail would coil itself at the Englishman's waist as if to protect the foreigner._

_The creature did not look possessive at all. Rather, it looked like it was waiting for Kiku to walk towards the both of them. The smaller man's feet had then moved themselves to walk closer to the other two ahead of him._

_In one swift motion, Kiku was found in the Englishman's arms; the warm embrace was both loving and somewhat sorrowful—the tail that still coiled at the other's waist burned into the Japanese man's abdomen as he unintentionally made contact with it. The smaller man felt as if he was slowly baking at the creature's smouldering touch._

_Even if Kiku tried to push the other man away, Arthur's embrace only began to grow more tightly than before—the fiery sensation still pained the smaller man's stomach, but it gradually became something tolerable. Even so, it was still as excruciating. "Kirkland-san." The smaller man's voice sounded as similar as a plea, but the other still did not move a muscle. _

_The creature's tail soon slithered around the Japanese man's waist—the appendage soon had the both of them together in a large, single loop. The agonizing touch, though, still affected Kiku."Kirkland-san, please let go of me."  
"I refuse."  
"It hurts—"  
"It will soon be gone, do not worry."  
"…Arthur."_

Back in the real world, the Englishman's face was tinged in a heavy shade of red. He silently slid the door so that it could close; he walked a bit further into the corridor only to soon be engulfed in the dense shadows of night.

Along the hollow hallways, the faint sound of cheery laughter gently bounced off the thin walls.

**..**

**I appreciate the people who would take their time to review what they think of my story (I love you, guys), but I would like to ask those "anonymous" readers to also comment the story.**

**I'm not asking you to comment every single chapter I post up.  
Rather, I'm insisting that I get at least one feedback from you.  
I would like to hear from you guys. I want to know if there is anything that is out of place or is increasingly annoying.  
If there is nothing wrong, then let me know if this fic is of any amusement to you.**

**To be honest, this is saddening for me.  
Please understand that this is something I need to get out of my chest—this troubled feeling has been building up in me for quite some time.**

**I'm sorry for being rude and/or selfish.**

**Excuse me for the long, whining after-note.**

**P.S.  
My French is not of the top-notch kind, so I'm open to corrections.  
Translations shall be revealed later on—like how I did things on "Summer Snowflake".**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

_Along the hollow hallways, the faint sound of cheery laughter gently bounced off the thin walls._

Right now, in the following day, there sat five people in the room displaying the back yard. The atmosphere was mildly comfortable, but it still demanded the silence of sophistication from every individual.

Arthur was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed—Alfred and Matthew did the same thing beside the man. Even with his clothes still rather damp from last night's rainfall, the Englishman stubbornly wore the attire to the long-awaited meeting. The children, though, had worn the robes from when Kiku was still as a kid. "I was about to throw them out, but I think it is wiser to lend them to you." The Japanese man had answered before at the first night they had arrived in the house.

Across the three foreigners, Kiku was sitting down in the kneel-and-sit combination posture. He looked slightly disturbed; he would stare at the empty space in front of him. Ever since the incident that had happened last night, the Japanese man was trying to avoid the Englishman's gaze—he'd always look down at the floor. It was as if looking at the other would only remind him of the strange dream he had.

To be honest, that was exactly it. And for some reason, remembering the dream would somehow make the smaller man's stomach twitch in pain; it also made his face get faintly flushed.

Beside Kiku was another person who also sat with his legs crossed (it was similar to how Arthur was sitting like). The new person had long, dark hair that was tied back in a loose tail; he looked nothing like the Japanese man, but the air of brotherly familiarity was found between them—at least that was what was coming out from the new man. Currently, the latest character was busy reading over the small stack of papers in his hand.

That person was the same one who Kiku had considered as a brother. From the clothes that the other was wearing and the accent that he spoke with, anyone could tell that the person had been staying in China for quite some time. Suddenly realizing this, Arthur wondered why the Japanese man was left to live on his own with the condition he was in.

Knowing this sort of angered him—_sort_ _of_…probably a bit more than that, really. He really wasn't aware of what he was feeling, anymore.

Alfred then yawned. Arthur immediately hushed him. The two children soon walked out to the yard to play (the small American dragged the other boy with him).

A few moments have passed; the Chinese-styled man finished the read with a small sigh. "I have no problem having your company as our business partner, but the local shops here have been losing sales. Ours is of no exception." The man passed the papers towards the Englishman.  
"Even with the current situation, Mr. Wang Yao, I believe that your sales would prosper—if ever you were to become partners with us."  
"Why does your company focus on Japan and not China, then?"  
"Going to the heart of the business empire would surely cause some confusion. It might affect the benefit we are looking for."  
"That is usually a great advantage, aru."  
"Well—I find great potential in this country. With new people coming in everyday, probably having some outside help would gain a good lead."

The Chinese man paused in thought. With the small time he was given, Arthur's eyes looked over towards Kiku's direction. The Japanese man had not looked up since the meeting had started, but the Englishman suspected the other's awareness of the unwanted attention.

Yao suddenly turned his head to Kiku (somewhat startling the Englishman back to reality); the both of them started conversing in another language—presumably Chinese. With a small nod from the Japanese man, the other looked over at Arthur. With a smile on his face, he soon decided to agree to the partnership. "If your queen is able to make many admirable businessmen, then I have no problem with them asking for me, aru."  
"If only her majesty, Victoria, would have heard such flattery."  
"If only she would."

Soon after the pleasant meeting, everything else went back to the playful atmosphere that the two children brought about. Kiku was found talking to little Matthew, and the small boy held onto the little polar bear in his arms. Nobody but the two and Alfred knew what they were talking about—they looked as if to have an enjoyable conversation, though. The small American was busy with a ball that the Japanese man had offered. "This is what I used to play with." Kiku would say.

As for Arthur and Yao, who were inside one of the many rooms of the house, the air was increasingly suffocating. Both of them had severe expressions etched on their faces— "So you know of my little brother's sickness." Even with the fake relaxed tone in the Chinese man's voice, the two men knew that this was not a time to be so blithe.  
"As I had said, why have you left Kiku?"  
"Aiyah—I have always thought that Kiku would prefer women and not men."  
"Kindly answer my question."  
"I never knew my little brother would be so attracted to a foreigner, no less."

Still having a rather expressionless look, Arthur had remained to not move a muscle (nor flush at the Chinese man's latest comment)—he was absolutely serious. It was plain idiotic to leave a loved one alone to suffer.

Actually, it was simply cruel to leave a being to suffer. Everyone with the right mind could easily agree to this.

This is why Alfred and Matthew are with the Englishman now. The two of them were leading decent lives because Arthur had rescued them. Alfred would never again be stuck in America with only having to walk aimlessly through the dark streets. Matthew would have been sent to an unloving family, or he would have been tracked down by the group that had brought him to the harbour that the Englishman just happened to go to.

Arthur took them in and cared for them; he raised them as if they were his own flesh and blood. Now, here was this man in front of him— this _fucking bastard_ that left his brother to writhe in pain and letting his relative gradually wither away.

The Englishman instantly dubbed himself guilty with the same treason. He had left his friend (who he now remembered was a merchant from China) to suffer on the dusty road in an unfamiliar labyrinth of wooden fortresses.

Nevertheless, Kiku is the other's **relative**—the person's own _brother_, for goodness' sake.

Yao then began to lay on the floor; he looked up at the ceiling while having his head rest on an arm. He was obviously avoiding eye-contact; this peeved Arthur, greatly. "I have told my brother about letting me see what was wrong—"  
"Honestly, you have no right by calling him your brother."  
"How about I call him my half-brother? We are born from different mothers, anyways."  
"I shall dare to persist that you still have no right, whatsoever."  
"What a harsh man you are. I wonder how Kiku tolerates you."  
"…At least by looking at him, have you figured out what is wrong with him?"

The Chinese man turned to his side and faced Arthur while having his head propped up with the palm of his hand and with his elbow having to land on the floor; he looked down at the floor and drew random shapes with the finger from his free hand. The silence only thickened from then on.

"He suffers from severe stomach upsets, frequent vomiting, and fatigue. The last time I had visited him, his chest was in pain and he had quickly lost weight. No matter how much I fed him, he would soon lose everything he ate after a few hours. There are even times when he _cannot_ walk around without have a shortness of breath.  
"I believed it to be Cholera—we had been faced with it years ago, so it is not impossible. He had been clearly showing signs of it then and at this time. I do not think it is the case, right now. I know he has been cured from it, and I know something inside him is not well. I just do not know what it is.  
"I had offered my help many times, but Kiku would tell me that he knows how to handle himself. When I kept insisting him to let me see what was troubling him, he had only become more distant with me. I started giving him medicine because I learned to give up. He is very stubborn—just as you are, aru."

Taking the opportunity of the silence that had appeared once more, Yao had pocketed out what looked to be a pipe of some sort. Arthur was still recovering from the things he had been told, but he managed to keep in touch with his surroundings—he eyed the Chinese man almost incredulously. "Though you know how to heal a man and maintain one's health, you are endangering yourself. Why is that so?" The Englishman nearly spat the words out.  
"One learns to seek for alternatives. I am surprised that you are being so naïve about this—this was introduced to my country from _yours_, did it not?"  
"Just what are you running away from, if you do not mind me asking?"

The Chinese man continued to take his time with the long pipe he held in his hand— the smell of the smoke coming out from the pipe was both inviting and disgusting. Arthur decided to brand it as disgusting. Yao then breathed out a small cloud of the narcotics from his mouth.

"One of the many things that I am running away from is rather _obvious_, Mr. Kirkland." The man paused as if to build up the anticipation for the other. "It is not long before Kiku's body returns to the earth below us."

A second after that, Arthur had jumped out of the room.

Yao continued to breathe in the addicting smoke as he heard the Englishman's heavy footsteps fade away. The Chinese man sighed deeply to himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and opened them with new ones that looked fogged. He looked up at the ceiling once more as if there was something that had caught his eye. "_Aiyah…look at the rabbit on the moon—he is making medicine, aru._"

He abruptly laughed aloud as if there was a person beside him; immediately after that, he silently cried to himself. The pipe then dropped from his hand to the floor with an inaudible drop. "_What a useless older brother you have, Kiku. I think the rabbit on the moon would make a much better doctor than me, aru._"

He began laughing again, once more.

He began crying again, soon after.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

_A second after that, Arthur had jumped out of the room. _

Unexpectedly, the Englishman had embarrassingly forgotten himself in the abode. He had stomped his way over to one side of the hallway, and he then recalled that the room he was looking for was on the other end.

He needed to calm down; getting riled up would only complicate things. Arthur had stopped in his tracks to take in a deep breath. His eyes soon faced the empty hall that he was in, but his perspective was slightly different. "Had you known about this, drunken sprite?"  
"There had been a lot of things we talked—"  
"You were listening to the bloody conver_sation_."  
"…I knew for a while, yes."  
"Why did you not tell me?"  
"You simply did not ask."  
"I have no time for games."  
"That is why I am the one given such luxury, dear foreigner."

Arthur had once again managed to control himself. The Englishman could not risk creating such a commotion—he knew that it was both unnecessary and inconvenient. Alfred would not cease to bombard the man with questions, he believed. Finally looking at his side, he saw the jolly man with a smiling expression on his face. "Why are you smiling?"  
"It is interesting to see what you would do."  
"What do you think I shall do?"  
"I rather not tell you."  
"You are a bastard, as always."  
"The same thing goes for you."

The smiling man had suddenly burst out into fits of laughter—the hearty sound could only be heard by the Englishman, though. In an instant, both his image and laughter soon faded away. Arthur had heard distant footsteps at what was presumed to be the front door of the home.

Unlike the cheery man that had recently left, Arthur was still in a foul mood. The Englishman had thought about why he was acting as such, but he didn't care anymore. All he focused on was the quiet host of this wooden fortress.

This was really pulling the poor man in multiple directions.

Finally reaching his destination, he found Kiku still with both Matthew and Alfred. The Englishman decided to make it as casual as possible and take away the other man with no fuss, at all. That was simple enough.

Walking towards the three of them, the small Canadian was the first one to recognize him; the other child, though, was the one who announced the man's presence. Ignoring the boy's loud greeting, Arthur had looked directly at the other man.

Kiku looked over his shoulder, stared briefly and rudely looked away—Arthur's spirit had somewhat dampened.

Also ignoring what had just happened, the Englishman asked Kiku if they could talk somewhere else for a moment. The Japanese man nodded curtly (after what seemed to be a long stretch of a minute) and told the two children that it won't take long—more of Arthur's will had started to become swayed.

Weirdly enough, it was Kiku who had led them from the perplexed two. After a few moments of silence have passed, both he and Arthur were once again in the Japanese man's own room (the Englishman had entered first). The small tray from last night, as Arthur had remembered, was now found at a corner of the room—the place looked a bit desolate without the mattress that was there. The whole thing was just this one wide, open space.

The memory of the night before was undeniably on both minds, but neither of them had bothered to bring up the subject. Nevertheless, what Arthur would like to talk about was _indeed_ related to that event. The minute he entered the other's room, however, the Englishman had realized that he had exactly nothing to say.

What a well-thought man, he is.

With Kiku soon looking at the Englishman—after some hesitation, the smaller man's expression was bemused at the other's apparent uneasiness. Arthur had jumped glances from the other's eyes to the empty walls of the room they were in. He could only bring up cynical thoughts of the smaller man concerning about what might happen next; his mind was fixed on the fact that the other would die soon.

Nothing else seemed to have invaded his mind.

He did not take note of the other's growing concern for the Englishman; he did not become aware of his slight quaking from all those nightmarish daydreams; he did not notice the small American peeking in through the open door; he had lost track of what he was certainly thinking about—to make everything much simpler, Arthur had lost all senses (and possibly sensible thought).

If he were to be a weaker man, he would be crying right now. Though he decided not to do so, his rather nervous trembling would not stop occurring all throughout his body.

Slowly, both of his hands were on either shoulder of the smaller man. Kiku had then asked unheard questions to the Englishman, but Arthur would only start to move closer to the other. He wasn't listening; he did not even see the Japanese man's eyes widen in a mix of panic and surprise.

In the next moment after, Arthur had soon embraced the smaller man. Kiku had tried his luck at pushing the taller man away from him, but the Englishman's hug would only grow more firm than before. More quiet demands were coming out from the Japanese man—it still had no effect at the other, whatsoever.

As if to make the struggling other stop in his arms, Arthur had whispered something that he swore nobody else would hear (even if they were to be right beside them). "Please..._stay with_ _me_."  
"…urts…I cannot brea—i-it hurts…Arthur."

Kiku's voice had become quivered; he was in pain. The smaller man instantly cradled his stomach—he then moved one hand to cover his mouth. His face was deeply flushed, and his eyes were closed but already brimming with tears.

Dumbly, Arthur had loosened his hold on the smaller man and asked if the other was alright. Kiku had gone slightly limp in the other's arms; Arthur had noticed a moment after (he also thought that he heard small footsteps out in the hallway). Immediately panicking, the Englishman had looked at the other with deep apprehension. He could not support the other man's back on the door since it wasn't even closed, so he went with supporting the other with his embrace.

As if on cue, Yao had appeared while somewhat mumbling words of letting him handle everything. You could see that the man was walking in an almost sluggish manner—it made the Englishman worry even more. The man soon took Kiku away from Arthur's arms and hurried the Japanese man away to wherever room of the home.

Two children soon stood in front of Arthur. Alfred had dared to look up at the man's unexplainable cold eyes. "Will Kiku be ok?"

The Englishman had then collapsed on his knees.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

_The Englishman had then collapsed on his knees._

Nearly two days have passed since Kiku had been taken away by Yao—the Chinese man would have none enter the room they were using but him. Even when Alfred had childishly begged to see if the Japanese man is alright, he would always be shot down with a stern '_no'_. The young boy tried to sneak in at this one time, but he was caught before he could even open the door.

Needless to say, the small American is not one to give up so gracefully. More attempts have been ensued, no worries.

Both Arthur and Matthew were found to be sitting in the living room after having to go back to the hotel (with a reluctant Alfred) to wash up and have a change of clothes. The man's thoughts had realized the oddity of using the hotel room as some sort of large closet or washroom of the sort. He had considered bringing all their things into this abode, but that would seem somewhat rude if there were to be no permission given—Arthur had never bothered to ask before.

Hence, this is the reason of the need to go back and forth from this home to the hotel. Nothing more can explain the excuse in more simplicity.

This sure became something of rising inconvenience.

Turning his head and seeing the young Canadian play with the small bear in his arms—Matthew had said that Kiku had named it Kumajirou, the Englishman had tried to count the number of days he had been in this country; it has been nearly a week, already.

It honestly felt like it has been a while longer than that—like a month or so. He then sighed to himself as he realized that he needed to go back to England sooner or later and continue with their company's plans. His fellow colleagues won't be too happy to hear that the whole thing was actually talked about (and agreed upon) for a day, and he had been lazing around for nearly the rest of the week.

Arthur sort of liked it in here, though; he knew that it was nothing like back home. He wasn't so used to the wooden homes and large market places with barely passing carriages going to and fro through the streets. Almost everyone he saw would rather walk about than ride from place to place. Even if this was a city, it wasn't as bustling as like it was in London.

The Englishman sulked a bit at the thought. When Matthew had looked up at him from noticing the other's mood, Arthur smiled at the boy and slowly placed his hand on top of the child's head as if it were a reassurance of some kind.

A few minutes have passed since then and Alfred had suddenly appeared in the scene with a childish pout on his face; he looked rather disappointed. The boy sat on the other side of the Englishman, and he blinked twice then stared at the man with his clear, blue eyes. "I don't like Yao—he's mean."  
"He is only trying to protect Kiku."  
"Why aren't you helpin' me out?"  
"There isn't a reason—"  
"There is, too."  
"…what is that, then?"  
"Didn't you get together?"  
"Stop with that—"  
"You're calling him by his name, and Kiku told me that you must be _real_ close to do that."  
"You are also calli—"  
"You must've married him, already!"  
"I did no—"  
"I'm going to live here now!"

Arthur had quickly decided that there was no use to say anything to the (now smiling) boy, anymore. Once the child gets an idea stuck in his head, it takes him a while to either go back to it later or completely forget it.

In most cases, it would settle to the latter.

Now given the chance to actually think about it more, Arthur _had_ admitted that he _did_ like it in this country. The only thing that was really separating the boy's dream from reality was that they weren't really allowed to stay in this part of the land—married to a native or not.

The Englishman realized the last thing he thought about and immediately ignored the notion. He didn't need to be married to _anyone_ to stay here; he is a proud bachelor, and he already needed some peace from taking care of the two children who sat on either side of him.

Almost unconsciously, his mind had crept in the experiences he had with the Japanese man. He nearly wondered aloud why mostly everyone kept stating—to them, there was no asking needed— that he and Kiku are having a… _loving _relationship of the sort.

The first time they had met, nothing really happened between the two of them; it was a strictly professional meet amongst two businessmen. In the other succeeding days in where they had met again and again, there was admittedly a small fondness for the other man; although, it was nothing of what the others keep on telling him.

What irritates him the most about hearing it from other people is that they'd sound as if it was already happening and it was now just a normal everyday thing. It somehow felt like he was being scolded for turning his back on the relationship—that _never_ _existed_.

In sheer reluctance, the Englishman turned his attention to the small American who was now with the other child and playing with the small polar bear. Arthur needed to know what the others were thinking about this nonsense.

Alfred seemed to not have noticed the man looking at him, but Matthew had looked up at Arthur with a questioning look—the man decided to ask the small Canadian, instead. "Do you think that I have some sort of… _affection_ for Kiku?" The child began to look a little nervous, but managed to nod his head in an affirmative manner.

Arthur then raised a brow and gave off that he was certainly being sceptical about the other's answer. "What made you believe it to be so?"  
"...y-you look like you're happy."  
"I am much more capable than frowning all the time, Matthew."  
"I mean that you look different."  
"How is that so?"  
"You look at Kiku a-as if… he is more than a friend, and you sometimes stay beside him for a long time."  
"He _was_ the only other person in this home that is about my age, but I only see him as a companion to pass the time."  
"...you act differently when you are with him."  
"What do I do, then?"  
"Your face would get red, and Alfred and I saw you hugging him—"  
"H-he is a close friend, then."  
"You hugged him more kindly than when you would bring women over—"  
"He could not stand up, Matthew."  
"…K-Kiku also acts the same way when we talked about you."

The Englishman averted his eyes to the ceiling above him as if he had been talking to whatever was above him since the whole conversation started, but Matthew knew that the man was hiding something that would give the other away into something. "From when have you started these obser_vations_?"  
"W-when we went here because Alfred was sick."  
"I find that impossible; I only met him once before we had to go here."

In the back of his mind, something was nagging the Englishman about the whole topic. It then hit him. This was what practically everyone actually meant by him to stop acting so stubborn—he didn't bother counting out the number of people that tried to tell him, but he finally understood a gist of what was happening now.

He was still rather confused, though.

What intrigued him, however, was that even his unfortunate friend was able to tell that Arthur had been acting differently. After meeting Kiku for the first time, it seemed as though people have been starting to tell him to not act so wilful from something he didn't know was even occurring in him.

Had our Englishman really become that obvious?

Again, Arthur had looked at the young Canadian boy; this time, with an even more incredulous (and a mix of bewilderment) expression on his face. "Are you trying to tell me that this is all love at first sight, and it was clear as day that I was immediately head over heels in love with Kiku?"

Matthew hesitantly shrugged his shoulders. Arthur sighed deeply to himself and abruptly stood up. As if not certain what he should do, the Englishman began walking towards the door leading to the hollow hallway of the fortress—he quietly slid the door open. Before leaving the living room entirely, he looked back to see that Alfred was still playing with the other child's bear and the young Canadian watched curiously at the man.

He would not be having a tiny audience following him, fortunately (but most probably hopefully).

The Englishman soon decided to head for the other room where Kiku was in. Walking down the hallway, Arthur noticed that a small light was coming out of the bottom of a door—it was evident where he'd go, now.

Without another pause or the thought of going back to the two children, Arthur kept his slow pace in the dark corridor. He is walking down a path where it would either bring relief or sorrow; he didn't think too much about it. The man would rather see whatever is in store for him with his own two eyes without pondering so much on the possibilities.

All he was confident about was that he knew was that this is a new path that had yet to be walked on—not literally, of course. This was one of the many paths that life had to offer; this one could be identified as the risky type of path, he concluded.

Whatever happens, he won't go back; he won't ignore anything that was about to happen. He chose to walk in this direction (without really knowing it), so there was no use in blaming anyone for whatever shall happen along the way. Once a person decides something, it is a must to stay on that course and continue on until you find another fork in the road.

Only cowering hypocrites try to rewrite history by walking backwards to the previous fork.

**..**

**I know the "marry-him-!" thing from Alfred is getting a little old, but I'll just go with it.  
Let's see what happens.**

**I suspect that this chapter is confusing, yes?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

_Only cowering hypocrites try to rewrite history by walking backwards to the previous fork._

He'd never go back because he knows that experiences sometimes tend to relive themselves—this is what he keeps telling himself, anyways.

Finally reaching the dimly glowing door, Arthur stood in front of it as if it were some kind of painting that one could find in an art gallery. He wasn't being hesitant about opening the door, no; it was more like he was taking one last deep breath before the big reveal of a life changing event.

A second before he impulsively slid the door open, he took a glance at his side to see the grinning sprite with a big, porcelain bottle in hand. The Englishman had no given time to talk to the drunkard since the door was already wide open— the strong smell of mint had quickly crinkled his nose; it was the same reaction he'd make whenever someone had decided to put on too much perfume (although, he was a bit more subtle than now).

Looking around the room, all he saw was Kiku blanketed on the mattress he lay on. The Japanese man seemed to not have noticed the other's presence from the sure stillness on where he lays. He was asleep, but the very slight rise and fall of his chest may fool someone that he has just passed away.

Thankfully, it was definitely just another comparison of things.

Without clearing his throat as to make clear of his presence (nor making any sound at all since the situation does not call for it), Arthur had quietly took a step into the room. Scanning around the space for the _damned_ half-brother, the Englishman had soon realized that Yao must have left the room to either take a break for a minute or sleep in another room.

Hopefully, it would actually be the latter. It was less trouble for everyone, honestly.

Carefully closing the door behind him, Arthur walked over to the smaller man's side with no trouble. He sat down on the floor and could do nothing else but stare at the sickly man that lay under all those thick layers of cloth—Kiku was actually beginning to sweat a little.

Once or twice had Arthur considered removing the heavy blankets off of the other man, but the Englishman finally decided against it (Yao knows what he's doing, after all). Being cautious of the Chinese man again, Arthur had somewhat nervously looked at the closed door he just walked through—he made a deep, aggravated sigh to himself. He isn't breaking in; he is just silently visiting.

There is no need to feel so silly, at all. It isn't like he was doing something _scandalous_, right?

Having his legs crossed, the Englishman was able to put his elbow somewhere near his knee and have his hand cradle his head. His eyes were shut tight while he silently berated himself for acting like an anxious child servant who was on the verge of getting caught for stealing a cookie from the master's jar.

Busy with his thoughts, he hadn't heard the small voice (it sounded like it was struggling to do something) that was calling out to him. Then the voice became much louder, so Arthur had opened his eyes to see that Kiku was sitting upright and looking directly at him.

Arthur had almost jumped in his place—_almost_.

Kiku looked at the other with tired eyes; had he been sleeping for only a few moments? Repeating the Englishman's name in a softer voice, the smaller man looked at Arthur with an innocent and curious expression on his face. The Japanese man couldn't help but say the other's name, for some reason. "…is there something wrong?" The Englishman looked away and back in a bashful manner.  
"No-nothing to worry about, really—just seeing how you are doing."  
"I am doing alright."  
"That is good to hear."  
"It is."

The conversation was easily dying, but Arthur tried his best to continue the weak string of conversation. "Why is Yao not here?"  
"He needed to look for something."  
"I see."  
"…did you talk with him earlier?"  
"I did, yes."  
"So you know about…what I am facing."  
"Anyone could see that something was wrong since you have stayed here for two whole days, already."

The Englishman had made a smile on his face, and a reflecting smile was returned to him from the other—it was a glum smile; the kind of smile that dares to appear and oppose sad truths.

The useless staring contest then continues to live on. Abject eyes meet with the other's weary and rather half-lidded ones.

Slowly, Arthur's hand had crept up to the side of Kiku's face. The other slightly leaned towards it—he leisurely closed his eyes as if only the feeling of the Englishman's hand was the only thing he'd rather focus on. The same smile had stayed in framing the smaller man's pale lips.

Another impulsive surge soon runs in Arthur's body. He isn't thinking as much as he was supposed to nor was he acting (supposedly) appro_priate_ly, whatsoever.

Bit by bit, the space between the two of them was thinning; it was as if they only knew how to move forward and not any other direction. Even when the both of them were suddenly aware that the door was opening, they continued the slow, electric connection. When the door had finally slid wide open, the couple ignored the questioning barks and demands from Yao.

It was a simple kiss, truthfully. There was no fiery passion nor was there any dull feeling to it—just very effortless (like experienced lovers, maybe). Nonetheless, it was an entirely loving moment for them. Alfred had suddenly popped in beside the rather stunned Yao.

As the two parted, Arthur nearly looked as abashed as the timid Matthew peeking in through the door.

As the seconds passed in their unhurried paces, Kiku had gradually become flaccid—he rested against the Englishman's chest to keep himself upright; he looked as if he just wanted to rest for a moment.

Instant questions from the small American were answered with: 'I will tell you later' from Arthur. The boy was now on the other side of the couple, and he looked at the very sleepy-looking Kiku who was holding onto one of the Englishman's hands.

Arthur had immediately embraced the smaller man (with his free arm) as if he understood something, and he is surely getting ready for it. The Japanese man's voice began to grow even weaker than ever; it was somewhat difficult to speak an easy word or was it to hear the slightly quivering man. "Thank you."  
"There is no need for that, alright."  
"…I understand."

Kiku's eyes were still closed; his smile had become even wider with a much more optimistic expression. The pain all over his chest and abdomen could not counter the feeling of bliss he had from and for the Englishman. As his breathing became shallower and his skin had felt cooler—

"Arthur…"

No other words were spoken; the Englishman's name was all part of his silent confession. No, it was one of the many inaudible statements that hadn't the need to be said aloud. Regrettably, Arthur admits to himself, this was the first and last time that he would hear of it.

Now fully embracing the cold, lifeless person in his arms, Arthur had not allowed himself to cry. Instead, he is to smile the same way Kiku has. The Englishman had, for the last time, blocked out everything around him (except the smaller man in his arms). He could only remain to hug Kiku in a manner as if he himself has died away with the Japanese man. He is still well aware that he is alive, though. An unfortunate shame, really.

—another fork in the road begins to be in view. Another path is yet to be taken.

Decisions, decisions.

**..**

**As always, an epilogue will follow.**


	13. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

Drinking from the porcelain teacup he had in his hand, Arthur looked at the clock to see that it was already half-past five. Glancing down at the newspaper once more, the Englishman couldn't help but feel both content and angered at what he had just read.

In the midst of a failing negotiation, canons had been fired at the unexpecting naval ships from Britain. An assault was mirrored back to the first offenders, who were the Japanese locals. What Arthur was satisfied about was because of the fact that this had all practically started from the death of his friend, but to take it to the point of open fire is just moronic.

Apparently, the Englishman recalled, his friend had been slashed by a bodyguard (the name was not given out). Incidentally, that bodyguard was part of the village's protection. Why was his unfortunate friend hacked in the first place—Arthur had yet to find out.

The only question now is: what is this group that he has been warned about? If the real culprit is a _protector_ of some sort, then what makes of this infamous, mysterious group the Englishman had heard? Embarrassingly enough, Arthur might have not been able to tell about it to the officials.

A thought soon occurred to him, if this group patrols the streets at night. Won't it be plausible enough to say that they are part of the village guards? It's also possible to point out that they might be in a small, independent group of their own—Arthur told himself to keep that in mind.

Finally setting the thick bunch of flimsy papers aside, the Englishman looked out by the window. His mind went about on the topic of his business—it's been increasing significantly, as of late. The partnership with Yao was yet another of the many advantageous opportunities that they were able to get a hold of. Even if Arthur had to suffer from subtle glares (courtesy of the Chinese man, himself), all else was fine.

He sort of deserved it, he supposed; there's actually no point in whining about such behaviour from the other. They are brothers, so it's very understandable—Arthur wanted to laugh.

What did he tell Yao at one point? That he had no right in calling himself a brother? Yes, Arthur did say so. It's quite amusing how the Englishman now admits the two as relatives of a sort, honestly; if the inside joke does not sound as comical (which wasn't really meant to be), it is of the cynical manner. It's in the same mocking air as from when the drunken sea sprite would say something, actually.

Thinking about that damn drunkard, the last memory of the monkey was right before the Englishman entered the room that changed everything—oh, so it now has its own special name? It sounds like something you'd read off on one of the many tasteless novels that the wives of noble men might posses. Arthur sighed to himself and stood up.

He walked over to the window that he was just looking through, and the Englishman unlocked the closed panel to raise it up as high as it possibly could. Deeply breathing in the freshest air that the city of London could provide (which is pretty much the smell of the vast garden in his whatever high-numbered acre estate), he placed both of his hands on the window sill and gazed at the blank sky.

He slightly wished for the smell of mint in the air.

Arthur continued to stare at the endless, blue space as if someone had decided to put up a picture of something—of someone. His face only remained passive as a reminiscing thought of Kiku had seemingly appeared before him. The Englishman's memory did not retain the other's image in high clarity, though.

More than a year has now passed, and Arthur was still in slight mourning over the other. In the first month of Kiku's death, the Englishman remembered, he got into the involuntary habit of forgetting which thing should go where, what time and day it was, and even knowing the difference between Alfred and Matthew. He basically became absent-minded; it did not help when he'd sometimes go expressionless and passive in thought.

There were also times when he would drink a glass or two, but it was nothing _too_ excessive (he'd usually get drunk every once a month or so—he _is_ a working man, mind you). Well, at least that's what he keeps telling himself.

Because of these sudden tendencies, Françis had taken the responsibility of bringing Matthew and Alfred into his house for a while. "Until the idiot gets his act straight" he would tell everyone who had the thought of asking. Arthur didn't mind that much, at all—he isn't their father, so why should he bother that the two children were staying at that bastard's place?

There _are _times when he wonders how they are, though; you just don't see him admitting that out loud.

Arthur looked down from where he stood—as more months passed by, he got much better with his drinking. It was only to this day that the Englishman had completely stopped taking in anything else but tea and delicious English food. He recalled someone saying that one could die of liver failure by drinking alcohol so much.

He slowly smiled darkly to himself. Compared to what the Japanese man had, it should be pretty much be nothing.

What did Kiku have, after all? He had a mutation of some cancer and the cholera he had. It was some kind of '_early cancer_' as Yao kept saying. Arthur didn't really believe it to be so, but he accepted what he had been told—more like read (a letter was given to him somewhere in the middle of his 'sorrow-year').

Slightly leaning outwards into the air, Arthur measured how high he was from the ground below him—all he knew was that it was high enough to die from if he were to fall (or jump… whichever works). Stretching his body a little more forward, a bit of his memory flickered to the moment Kiku had smiled in his final moments in life.

That happy smile—Arthur had nearly forgotten it.

He then stopped moving and blinked his eyes as if he had just woken up from an abrupt interruption of a daydream. Clearly not happy with what he realised was happening in him, the Englishman frowned deeply as he leaned back into the safety of his room. Shutting the glass panel fairly audibly, Arthur had even drawn the curtains together as if to make a statement of some sort.

Isn't this rather pathetic of him, he berated himself. Arthur Kirkland is a fine (great) man of reason—not a weak-spirited git. He didn't need _any_one, but everyone _needed_ _him_; that is just how everything should and must go as. It is the most common of common sense, _surely_.

Satisfied with that, Arthur walked over to his desk and fixed everything on top of it until it was neat enough to leave it as it is. All of a sudden, he wondered if he was done with what he was working on. Fortunately for him, he was. The Englishman soon jumped to another thought and immediately packed some things in his study. He soon headed out of the room to get some clothes for the sudden decision of a trip.

To where, exactly? How about work?

He thought about his fellow colleagues for a second—the company could handle a number of days without him around, he boldly concluded. He taught them well, anyways.

Not minding where he was going, he soon found himself nearly bumping into one of the many faeries living in his home (it's sometimes dangerous for them to go outside; it wasn't as clean as it used to be). Not being the least bit bothered, Arthur apologised quickly and continued his way down the hallway.

He stopped when the faerie—"Where are you going?" Arthur looked back and smiled at the tiny, winged girl who fluttered closer to him. "I am going to Japan."  
"…Are you sure?"  
"I shall be fine there. I can take care of myself."

The sudden, minuscule feel of a familiar conversation surrounded the Englishman. In hopes of changing the subject (or better yet, excusing himself), the faerie was the one who luckily had done so. "What about Alfred and Matthew?"  
"I will bring them home once I finish what needs to be done. There is no real reason for them to come with me."  
"Won't they be upset?"  
"It is certainly none of their business, and I am sure that they are con_tent_ in France, right now."

Not even giving another pause between them, the Englishman had continued walking all the way from his beautiful Victorian mansion into one of the carriages he owned (and had called out for) that was waiting at a short distance from the home's front door. "Take me to the harbour."  
"The one you went last, sir?"  
" Yes, that one."  
"Right away, sir."  
"It will take at least three days to go there…have you prepared for it?"  
"Of course, sir."  
"Then, carry on."  
"As you wish."

Stepping inside and soon settling himself more comfortably in his seat, Arthur glanced over at the same black bags that he had used in his last trip. Reaching into one of its pockets, a folded piece of paper and a small card was found inside. Instantly pocketing the card in his pants' pocket as if it would fly through the cab's window, he delicately opened the aged letter in his hand (it might tear in half if he was not careful).

For the first time in reading the faded text, the Englishman had finally broke into a small smile. His voice became as low as so that the coachman could not hear a thing—

"The wife that you were trying to point out is actually a man, old friend."

**..**

**The ending sounds like something taken from a BerwaldTino fic—dammit.  
Oh well. Ha ha.**


	14. Notes

**Note: Most of my references come from the commonly abused Wikipedia; the rest are from other sites, things I've experienced or from the official Hetalia comics/show. **

**I will be writing some guides where you could find where the notes are referring to—it's going to be like a treasure hunt. If I say which paragraph in general is being referred to, though, it's because the sentence is too long. Ha ha.**

**..**

**Chapter 1.**

_Setting_  
-The story is around 1862—the Victorian Era. This is some time after Japan's seclusion and somewhere at the end of the Tokugawa (or Edo) period, actually.  
-That time can also be formally called as: _Bakumatsu—_or _bakufu_. This is what they named the final years of the Edo period (and when the Tokugawa Shogunate came to an end). After this time, it was the Meiji period.

_Fourth Paragraph_  
-Why does Françis know about Japan earlier that Arthur? Well, to put it simply, France already had a treaty with Japan in October 9, 1858—the UK was on August 26. Insignificant to say, I agree, but I'm telling you this because Françis could've possibly had earlier business there.  
-Remember, Alfred cannot see Arthur's _friends_.

_Fifth Paragraph_  
-I already made Arthur consider Alfred and Matthew brothers—nothing much wrong with it since it's believable.

_Sixth Paragraph_  
-The stuffed animal is Kumajirou. I made Kumajirou inanimate (I could fit it in my story more easily), so I didn't kill it. Ha ha ha.

_Seventh Paragraph_  
-A man shouts to alert passengers since there were no such things as speakers yet, yes?

**..**

**Chapter 2**

_Fourth Paragraph_  
-You can imagine Alfred pushing Matthew around when they would play together (and if Alfred had even bothered to notice the other), right?

_Fifth Paragraph_  
-I forgot to add bruises with Alfred's cold. Ha ha ha. He _slipped_ into a tub, mind you—it's not much of a smooth motion.

_Seventh Paragraph_  
-I _think_ Alfred started his "hero" thing right when he was a kid. Ha ha.

_Twelfth Paragraph_  
-The policeman is just following them as a pre-caution from the incident involving Arthur's "_unfortunate_ _friend_". He is to protect them—to put it simply.

**..**

**Chapter 3**

_Sixth Paragraph_  
-Arthur is somewhat familiar with Chinese characters because some of his businesses involve China.  
-Arthur's job is something like a "general businessman", really. He is handling a lot of shops selling from horse food to evening gowns fit for a queen—pun intended (if you get it).

_Eighth to Twelfth Paragraphs_  
-'_Nihon'_ is also 'Japan'; I'd imagine the locals saying '_Nihon'_ more, though.  
-Kiku owns one of Yao's medicinal shops (this could be the Japanese branch, you could say). He still owns it, yes; it's just that the _real_ owner is actually Yao. That is why Kiku told Arthur that he had to talk to Yao about whatever business plans were made.  
-The shop actually moved into Kiku's home—like those _"_homestores" that you could sometimes find.  
-If that was so, then why were there no customers throughout the whole story coming into the home? It may be because people weren't aware of it (it was newly moved, after all) or I just thought of that now—most likely the latter. Ha ha.  
-Have you noticed that Arthur and Kiku have held hands while they were talking to each other, and Kiku only let go because he went to give the shop's new address to Arthur? I won't blame you if you didn't.

_Fourteenth and Fifteenth Paragraphs_  
-I will reveal the issue about the "unfortunate friend" later on, but I made a mistake in writing about him being stabbed when he actually had been _slashed_—let's settle to the notion that Arthur's perception on these things could be sometimes unreliable, yes?  
-I know that any sane man wouldn't bother taking off his coat and rolling up his sleeves when there's a dying man in front of him, but (as I repeat desperately) let's say that this is Arthur's first time in these things.  
-I also know that it's terribly moronic to use your handkerchief and not your coat to put pressure on a wound (since there's more cloth, I suppose)—now let's just say that it's my fault …which is meant to be. It makes a good laugh, though. Ha ha ha.

_Nineteenth Chapter_  
-I know that there's something wrong with me since I made a dying man write a letter, but that is part of the plot—a poorly planned one, it seems.

**..**

**Chapter 4**

_Ninth Paragraph_  
-During that time, unfortunately, the Japanese weren't so open to the idea of Westernization or foreigners. According to Wikipedia, it says that at least one foreigner would be killed every month.

**..**

**Chapter 5**

_Nineteenth and Twentieth Paragraphs_  
-The English sometimes calls the French: _frogs_—at least, that's what I hear from my dad and brother.  
-In movies, I'd see well-taught English nobles having the ability to speak fluent French—I decided to go along with the idea, as well.

**..**

**Chapter 6**

"_No, we already have a house. Besides, the only place that is currently selling houses is at Yedo."_  
-Sometimes foreigners would pronounce '_Edo' _as '_Yedo_'.  
-From July 1, 1859, British commerce and British subjects were allowed in Hakodate, Kanagawa and Nagasaki—people weren't really meant to live here, yet. It's more like a holiday stay, really.  
-From January 1, 1862, they were allowed to reside only in Edo.  
-In 1868, the name '_Edo'_ was soon changed to the now known: '_Tokyo_'

_Thirty-second Paragraph_  
-Who is this person that almost has the same serene tone as Kiku's? Well, I'll leave that to you—I might bring this up again someday (probably in another story).

**..**

**Chapter 7**

_Ninth Chapter_  
-The drunken monkey is actually called a '_Shōjō_' in Japanese folklore. I think it basically means: Drunken Sea Sprite. Ha ha ha.  
- These are sea sprites that originally hail from China. They'd sport ruddy skin and wild, red hair—they also have a monkey-like appearance (hence one of the many ways I call him). They are harmless creatures that love to drink, dance and just be really easy-going and cheery. I chose this as Arthur's re-occurring friend because I like the idea of it. Ha ha.

"_Something tells me that you went a little too fast for the young master"_  
-I decided that these "imaginary" beings be closely acquainted to Kiku—he _had_ the ability of seeing them, after all. In another sense, they have been around for a long time (which isn't so surprising).

_Eleventh Paragraph_  
-Remember, not everyone could see what Arthur can see—this explains their odd looks towards the Englishman.

_Twenty-seventh Paragraph_  
-The woman in the rain is called a: '_Ame-onna'_. This can mean: Rain Woman.  
-This woman also comes from China (she's specifically a Chinese mountain goddess), but I decided to make her wear an expensive kimono. Ha ha.  
-She is said to be a cloud in the morning and the rain in the evening. Farmers usually depend on her for good rain, so she is more looked upon as a sort of deity. Where she is found at night—rain is found.  
-The little boy with her (which I decided to make the woman's child) is called: '_Ame-furi-kozō_'. This can mean: Little Rainfall Boy.  
-In a picture I've seen, he wears his clothes like that of a pure Japanese boy, but he is said to be in service to _Ushi_—a Chinese god of precipitation. This means that the boy can also draw out rain.

**..**

**Chapter 8**

"_Ah—Je desolé, monsieur. Où est chez mademoiselle… Hoku?"_  
-"Ah—I'm sorry, sir. Where is Ms. Hoku's house?"  
-Ms. '_Hoku'_ is just a poor combination of '_Honda'_ and '_Kiku'_. Ha ha ha ha.

"_Pouvez-vous m'aider?"_  
-Formal way of saying: "Can you help me?"

"…_Parlez-vous français?_"_  
_-Formal way of saying: "Do you speak French?"

_Sixteenth Paragraph_  
-The minty medicine is called 'Elsholtzia Powder' (or _Xiang Ru San_). This is one of the herbal remedies that can be used to fight Cholera or anything that involves abdominal pains, headaches, impairment during summer, etc.  
-It only gives off a minty scent when crushed.

_Kiku's dream_  
-The creature I wrote in this scene is called: _Hakutaku_ (or if you want: _Baí Zé_). This can mean: White Marsh.  
-This is considered to be a guardian against demons. In the Edo period, this was a very popular good luck charm. Nowadays, the image of this being is still used as a sign to warn off calamity and disease—this is also considered to be a guardian deity in medicinal shops (in a way, for pursuit of better fortune).  
-Kiku was burning at the being's touch because he was ill—the creature's job _is_ to warn off disease, after all.

**..**

**Chapter 9**

"_I have no problem having your company as our business partner, but the local shops here have been losing sales. Ours is of no exception."_  
-Ever since Japan became more open to the outside countries, the foreigners have wanted to do some business over there. Consequently, the local shops started to lose sales because of the new shops that the foreigners have been making.

_Twelfth Paragraph  
_-My guess is that Kiku knows how to speak fluent Chinese (since China sort of found the country first).

_Thirteenth Paragraph_  
-The ball that Alfred was given is a '_temari_'. It's that ball thing that is made of remnants of old kimonos and silk. Nowadays, making these things is more of an artisan thing than of a normal, everyday thing.

_Twenty-third Paragraph_  
-At around 1854, the disease known as cholera infected the citizens of China and Japan. These were two of the many countries that suffered in the third cholera pandemic.

_Twenty-fourth Paragraph_  
-Yao is using opium.  
-Opium was actually introduced to China by the UK; it was as a means of trade. When the Chinese had asked for things such as silver and gold as payment for their products, the British decided to pay with opium—you could tell that it was a smashing hit (since there were two wars over it and such).  
-Opium is somewhat similar to heroine.

_Twenty-eighth Paragraph_  
-I got the rabbit on the moon thing from a Hetalia episode—the one when they showed the first time Yao met Kiku.

**..**

**Chapter 11**

_Seventh Paragraph_  
-I made Kiku name Kumajirou simply because I find it odd for Matthew to name something in Japanese.

**..**

**Epilogue**

_Second Paragraph_  
-The following year after the death of Arthur's unfortunate friend, there had been a war between Britain and a place in Japan called Satsuma (the place of the friend's death). The Anglo-Satsuma war happened because when the British asked for a fine for the death of Richardson, the locals living there refused to pay for it. The price was £25,000, so I don't really blame the locals.  
-Charles Richardson is the unfortunate friend of Arthur. He died after running away from his attacker (he was also riding a horse, but he fell off).  
-The British navy had soon captured the only three (foreign built) steam-engine ships as a means of a forceful negotiation. Instead of paying the fine, the Japanese had fired their canons.  
-To be honest, there were two other men and a woman who was involved in the incident of Richardson's death (called the Namamugi Incident, Richardson Affair or the Kanagawa Incident). The two other men were seriously wounded, but the woman was not physically harmed.  
-I didn't mention the rest because I wanted to focus your attention to the one that actually died.

_Third Paragraph_  
-In what I've read (from Wikipedia, of course), the reason why Richardson was slashed in the first place was because he was not showing any sign of respect to the passing village guards who were marching about.  
-Impulsive anger from the attacker? It's possible.

_Fourth Paragraph_  
-I will leave the identities of this dangerous group to you. To be honest, I misread my research and thought it was a group—only to find that it was actually a bodyguard. Ha ha. It's never too late to compromise, I always say (not really).

_Nineteenth Paragraph_  
-This is really just one giant guess from the imagination. I have no skills in the field of medicine and health, so I have no idea if a cholera and cancer can mix and soon become a pre-cancer thing.  
-Kiku's cancer is pretty much like colon cancer (or colorectal… it's somewhat the same)—the thing is, this particular cancer usually becomes a problem when you are going over your fifties. I will say one thing, though; I took the chance of making Kiku getting it a little earlier because I can explain my actions now. Let's leave to it that his mother and grandparents have had this, and this is just a genetic thing. Ha ha.  
-I wrote that Kiku and Yao have different mothers, remember? In short, Yao is as fit as a horse.

_Twenty-seventh Paragraph_  
-Mystical creatures live in Arthur's home, yes?

**..**

**I'm sorry for anything written that is rather rude or inappropriate. **

**If there are any mistakes to any of these notes, I'll happily accept some new points of information.  
If there are any points of clarification, please don't hesitate to ask.**


	15. From the Author

All,

To be honest, I was being hesitant on whether to kill Kiku or not. When I first thought of this, it was already decided that he must die—yes, _must_. At least I ended up postponing his death. Ha ha ha.

This story actually took longer than expected. The plot was supposed to be a little shorter, but I just keep getting these new ideas to squeeze in, y'know? Well, I'm off to write another story—I have two more official plots that I would be writing out. I plan to finish these stories before the end of my summer holidays.

Thank you for reading this story. If you are a new reader, welcome—if you are an old friend, how are you? Ha ha.

HimeTomi, Chione, Binus, I'm glad that you like my story. Hopefully, you would be able to read my future stories.

choirfolk, I-I-I'm sorry for not complying to your request about the dialogues—but I can't do it. I'm sorry that my writing style (concerning the dialogues) has made you a bit lost. I'm glad, though, that you like my story.

See You and Take Care,  
SoundsRight


End file.
